


Star Maps

by Davechicken



Series: The Pilot and his Knight [12]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-11
Updated: 2016-03-11
Packaged: 2018-05-26 02:30:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6220136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Davechicken/pseuds/Davechicken
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt: Poe worships the shit out of Ren's freckles and birth marks, and scars and it makes Kylo feel so loved, is overwhelming, he loves it but pretends he hates it but Poe knows better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Star Maps

Kylo stretches out, just a little, under Poe’s fingers. It’s normally in the lull, after. When they’ve screamed themselves to high heaven, when they’ve worn out the tension of the day. Already naked, and dancing on that fine beam between the chasm of _I’m too comfortable to move_ and _I’m sticky and gross from all the hot sex_ and enjoying the dichotomy. In a while they’ll go to the ‘fresher, but not yet. For now, they just revel in the afterglow.

He doesn’t know why Poe is so obsessed with his imperfections. Some he was born with - splattered across his skin like paint from a distant, flicked brush - and some he was born _into_ , some he **survived** to feel itching their way healed, to see turn from **fire-red** to _dying-pink_.

Poe’s fingers know how to make him smile. Just the right side of ticklish. They wander, drawing paths. Usually the same few paths, which Kylo is beginning to memorise.

“…why… do you always do the same thing?”  


“Hmm?”  


Kylo drops two fingers onto the back of Poe’s hand, chasing the gesture, following the slide, the flex, the dance of bones under skin. 

“You always draw the same thing.”  


“It’s…” Poe flushes, and Kylo wriggles his head on the pillow, stretching out with his toes to extend his legs further, feeling the sheets scrunch under him. “It’s like a star-chart.”  


“Huh?”  


“Like… co-ordinates. Like… stars.” Poe bites his lip, and Kylo falls in love again. Again.  


“You’re plotting a course?”  


“Yeah. I’m…” A kiss to the end of one deep, furrowed divot against his shoulderblade. “I’m memorising you. You’re so beautiful, and I… want to… I want to know everything about you.”  


He long since told him what the scars were for. Recalled the battles, distant, long-gone. Confessions of deaths that left their marks upon him. The last words of dead soldiers. Sad, but essential. 

“You do know everything about me,” Kylo says, so very, very softly.   


Poe draws the last line, connects the last dot, and Kylo pushes his head into the pillow, moaning. He feels fingers push his hair up from his nape, and kisses fall on his neck. “I do,” his pilot says. “That’s why I love you.”


End file.
